


Five Times Draco Explained Veela Allure (And One Time Harry Understood)

by Andante825



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Five Times (Plus One), Fluff and Humor, M/M, Puppets, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andante825/pseuds/Andante825
Summary: Harry refuses to admit that he's affected by Veela allure, despite Draco's creative attempts to convince him. Oneshot.





	Five Times Draco Explained Veela Allure (And One Time Harry Understood)

(One)

“So … what are you saying?”

“I’m saying none of this is real, Potter,” Draco told him, scooting his desk chair back as far as it would go. “Just Veela allure. Not your fault. I do apologize for the inconvenience, and if you would be so kind –”

“But you smell soooo good. Like treacle tart, and Quidditch leathers, and –”

“It’s the bloody allure, Potter. I’m a Veela.” _And apparently you Chase for both teams_ , he thought as Potter stepped even closer, stumbling into his already-battered desk. _Who knew?_

The Chosen One himself seemed blissfully unaware that responding to a male Veela’s allure meant he was, in fact, attracted to men. During his two years and four months of serving the community as the lowest rung of the Muggle Liaison Office, Draco had learned that some Muggles – baffling, pitiable creatures that they were – looked down on same-sex attraction. Best to tread carefully.

“You know about the pixies and the centaurs, yes?”

“I took Care of Magical Creatures,” Potter huffed. “You were there.”

“I mean,” Draco said with infinite patience, “you know what two creatures get up to. In the sky, in the forest, on the hearthrug, or occasionally in the bedroom.”

Stunned silence from Potter. “Are you taking the piss?”

“I assure you I am not.”

“I know what sex is, Malfoy!”

“Then you know that sexuality, for some creatures, is powered by magic. Veela, sirens, incubi, succubi, rusalki, and so on. Veela are the most benign and, naturally, the most beautiful.” He resisted the urge to preen. “Once you’ve been caught in the allure, I could tell you to jump out the window and you’d be halfway to the ground before I – Potter, stop! Potter – oh, you bloody idiot, it’s not a real window, it’s painted on. And … you’re unconscious. Bloody brilliant.”

 

(Two)

“Oh, real nice, Malfoy. You were jabbing the close-doors button, weren’t you?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Auror,” Potter said airily, gifting him with a flash of white teeth. “I can read body language and sense guilt. Also you just confessed.”

“Forgive me for wishing to avoid another awkward conversation,” Draco said. “A conversation that, it occurs to me, you may not even remember, but which nevertheless I don’t care to repeat. Floor?”

Potter’s eyes went straight to Draco’s mouth. “Er, yeah, all right …”

“What _floor,_ Potter?”

“Oh! Atrium level.” He cleared his throat with exquisite awkwardness. “Three Broomsticks tonight. Spinnet’s birthday, you know.”

“How would I possibly know that?”

“Well … now you do. I don’t suppose you’d be interested …”

“Ask me again sometime when you’re not drooling, Potter.”

“I am not drooling! Much. Why am I drooling?”

“Because,” Draco said wearily. “I’m a Veela, Potter. We are in an enclosed space, and you’re responding to my allure. If I could turn it off all the way, I would, but it’s not a spigot. It's more of an aura.”

“If you’re a Veela,” Potter said triumphantly, “how come you were such a pointy ferret-faced git in school?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

“I … said … I’m Harry Potter! I killed Voldemort! I saved the Philosopher’s Stone when I was eleven, I slew a basilisk as a second-year, I can speak Parseltongue, I helped free a captive dragon and rode it out of Gringotts …”

It figured, Draco thought, that the best way for an allure-addled Potter to woo a Veela was simply with the truth. Even the glimmer of drool on his chin couldn’t detract from a very impressive recounting of real-life triumphs.

“… and so I united the Hallows, and became the Master of Death!”

At least most of them were true.

 

(Three)

“Malfoy, what the hell are you doing?”

The lights dimmed, save for a single spotlight maneuvered by Gobo the House Elf.

“Is that … a puppet theatre? Did you make all this yourself?”

“I sewed the curtains,” came a sylphic whisper over his shoulder. “Popcorn?”

Harry jumped. “Luna! You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, still whispering. “Draco warded the breakroom door quite viciously.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s – are you all right?”

“You’re sweet, Harry,” she replied. “I came in through the window.”

“But it’s just painted –” Harry began, but Luna shushed him.

The curtains opened. A puppet made of parchment and yarn popped its head up.

“I’m Harry Potter,” it squeaked. “I’m a big strong Auror who loves to barge into other people’s offices.”

Another puppet, much more neatly constructed, joined him. “I’m a Veela,” it said, tossing its silken hair. “Now and then, I like to relax in the privacy of my office. Sometimes, I might let down my shields and not bother to dim my allure. Allure makes other creatures find me very, very attractive. Even more so than usual.”

“But I’m in love with you, for really and for truly,” Harry Puppet said, clasping folded parchment hands over his heart.

“No, you are a big stupid Auror,” Veela Puppet replied archly. “You aren’t in love, you’re being magically enticed. If you don’t realize what’s happening, you’ll never snap out of it. You might stop eating, and if you die, angry mobs will chase the Veela out of town with pitchforks and torches.”

Luna passed the popcorn more insistently.

“This will make the Veela sad,” the puppet continued. “If you truly love the Veela, you won’t want to make him sad. You’ll want to make him very happy by rereading your Auror training manual, chapter 232, ‘How to Recognize Veela Intoxication in Yourself or Your Partner.’”

“Thank you, Mr. Veela!” Harry Puppet announced. “I will go and do that. Then I will think long and hard before I bother Draco in his tiny office ever again.”

Both puppets bowed, yarn flopping, and the curtains closed.

Luna cheered.

“Wait …” Harry said, staring into the popcorn. “I thought Veela were girls?”

 

(Four)

“Hey guys, sorry for the wait, but they threw in a few extra kebabs – what’s going on?”

“Potter,” Draco said, standing up from the circle. “Take your seat, if you please.”

A small group was convened in the disused ballroom at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was scouring the parquet, muttering imprecations against Harry for allowing Draco to witness the House of Black in disrepair. A circle of fragile-looking folding chairs was set up in the middle of the dance floor.

Harry clutched the takeaway to his chest. “But … Ron? Hermione?”

“It’s for your own good, mate,” Ron said.

“Kreacher, would you please take the food to the kitchen?” Hermione added sweetly.

The elf moved to obey, restricting himself to a single, almost affectionate slur against her parentage. Harry gave up the food with an ill grace and sat in the designated chair, between the propped-up portraits of Snape and Dumbledore.

“Headmasters,” he said faintly. Portrait Dumbledore twinkled.

“I fail to understand why I am here,” snarled Portrait Snape.

“I already told you, Severus,” Draco said. “You’re the only one able to confirm the truth about my heritage.”

“Ah, yes,” Snape murmured, calming. “The Malfoys’ secret shame.”

“Exactly, thank you,” Draco replied. “And Headmaster Dumbledore, you’re here _in loco parentis_. Honestly, you couldn’t give Potter the facts of life before sending him off to be killed?”

“I wanted him to enjoy his childhood without feeling burdened by the cares of the adult world,” Portrait Dumbledore said.

“Mission … accomplished,” intoned Portrait Snape.

“Well!” Hermione interrupted, clapping her hands and making Ron jump. “Let’s begin, shall we? Luna, would you start us off? You’re the expert.”

“Of course.” Luna stood. “We are gathered here today because we all love Harry.”

The tips of Ron’s ears turned red. Draco rolled his eyes, but forebore to comment. Snape simply walked out of his portrait.

“He’ll be back,” Luna said serenely. “Now, each one of you non-portraits has written a letter telling Harry how you feel. Ronald, would you like to read your letter first?”

“Um, sure.” He unfolded a scrap of parchment visibly darkened with sweat. “Harry … your failure to understand Malfoy’s Veela allure has affected me in the following ways. One: I had to write this letter. Two: I had to attend this intervention. Three: I have to think about you being attracted to Malfoy … in, like, a sex way.” He coughed. “Four: I guess it doesn’t make sense to me, mate. I mean, you know Fleur's thing, right? It’s like that, except you’re a bloke, and he’s a bloke, and I guess … this means … you like blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, what’s to get?”

“Thank you, Ronald,” Luna said. “Hermione?”

“Your failure to realize that you’re experiencing Veela allure has affected me in the following ways,” Hermione rattled off, so fast Harry could hardly understand her. “One, I mean, it doesn’t really, except that I want you to be happy, and if you’re attracted to Malfoy, maybe he could make you happy? It would certainly explain your obsession with him over the past eight years.”

Draco nodded emphatically. “It really would.”

“Two, I find it just a tad frustrating, after all these years, that you won’t pick up a sodding _book,_ Harry. I can’t be expected to learn everything for you and regurgitate bite-size knowledge on demand. We’re not in school anymore, and frankly I have my own life.”

“Hear, hear,” said Dumbledore supportively.

“And finally, for God’s sake, Harry, who cares if it’s Veela allure? If you’re attracted to Draco, and he’s attracted to you, why not snog and get it over with? We’re all sick of the unresolved tension. It’s like a bloody lightning storm that just won’t break.”

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking thoughtful.

“Hear, hear,” said Luna suggestively. “Draco?”

Draco stood. His skin seemed more radiant than usual, and his hair fairly sparkled in the dim light from the Black chandeliers. Harry was instantly riveted, green eyes wide behind his glasses. Across from him, Hermione and Luna exchanged a pessimistic glance.

“Potter,” he began. “Harry. Your failure to listen to me, to the words that are coming out of my face this very second, has affected me in the following ways. One: I don’t know if I could be attracted to you or not, because you are so bloody frustrating that all I can think about is hexing some sense through that unbelievably thick skull. Two: I’d rather like to get to know you without the allure getting in the way. I know you can throw off the Imperius. All you have to do is accept that you’re experiencing Veela allure, and I have every confidence that you can figure out how to resist it. Three: If I give in to almost overwhelming temptation and punch you in the jaw on our next meeting, I will almost certainly be sent to Azkaban for coldcocking the Chosen One, and that will break my mother’s heart. You owe my mother, Potter.”

There was a pause. Dumbledore sat back in his painted chair, twinkling away. Snape peered around the edge of his frame. Draco kept his own eyes on Harry’s, willing him to understand. Hermione and Luna seemed to have reached a dour accord.

Ron’s stomach growled, chasing the lingering smell of lamb kebabs.

“… I came back from the dead,” Potter blurted, and everyone groaned.

 

(Five)

“Malfoy!”

“Good afternoon, Potter.”

“I’ve never seen you up this way before,” Harry said, scrambling to clear off a chair. Paperwork was stacked two feet high on every surface, and a cluster of yellowing memos roosted like bats above his desk.

“I thought it might help,” Draco said. “If I saw you on your own pitch, so to speak.”

“Might help what?”

His grey eyes narrowed. “Might help you listen to me without being overcome.”

“Don’t think much of yourself, do you?”

“By the allure, Potter. You know what, change of plan. Are you due for lunch?”

Harry glanced at his entombed desk and shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

Two quick Floo trips brought them to Alicorn, Draco’s favorite Diagon Alley bistro. A gold plaque above the booth was engraved with a Chinese Fireball, rampant, who let out an overjoyed stream of smoke the moment she spotted Draco.

“I’m trying this one last time,” he said after placing their order. “I. Am. A. Veela. One-eighth through the paternal line, to be exact. I don’t have wings. I don’t have talons. But I do have allure, and you’ve proven to be unusually susceptible. Potter, my eyes are up here.”

Harry dragged his gaze up from Draco’s lips. “Mm-hmm.”

“I like you, Potter. But I want a mate, not a slack-jawed, lovestruck shadow. That's what the allure does, unless you're magically strong enough to resist it. And Merlin knows you're magically strong.”

But Potter had stopped listening, and when he spoke, he sounded truly hurt. “I thought we were mates.”

“Oh for … a _mate,_ Potter. Because I’m a freaking Veela.”

“You like me? Like – _like_ like me?”

Draco paused. “… Yes.”

“Oh.” Harry relaxed. “Well. That’s all I really need to know.”

When their food arrived, he didn’t let go of Draco’s hand. He ate baby clams and vermicelli one-handed, dropping flecks of sauce all over, and somehow this didn’t bother Draco at all.

 

(Plus One)

“Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Pott – Harry.”

He’d been dreading this moment all night, but it was time. With a resigned exhalation, he stopped reining in the allure. If Potter could resist it now, he’d know they were in the clear.

Harry smiled at him. “I don’t shag on the first date, but if you want to do brunch tomorrow, I wouldn’t say no.” His eyes promised a lazy Sunday in bed, doing not-lazy things.

Draco’s heart leapt. “I’d love to. Firecall as soon as you’re up, if you’d like.”

“I will.” He leaned in, eyes limpid, and kissed him with the barest hint of teeth and tongue. But he stepped back with no trouble, and Draco felt a bittersweet tug on his magic. Oh, yes, he could fall.

He could fall for Harry.

“What finally got it through your head?” he said, then cursed himself.

But his potential mate didn’t take offense. “It meant a lot to you,” he said, shrugging.

“You do know it’s real, though? The allure?”

“You take a lot of reassuring, Malfoy,” Harry said, teasing. “Sure it’s real. I’ve always felt drawn to you, you know, even when we hated each other.” He took Draco’s hand again. “I have to say, it would have saved us both a lot of trouble if you’d told me years ago.”

“Would you have believed me?”

“Of course,” Harry said, all glowing sincerity. “I mean, isn’t it obvious?”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of fun while I work out the last chapter or two of my slightly longer fic. I thought of Draco trying to explain Veela allure with a puppet show, and it spun out from there. 
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated, and so are kudos and bookmarks. Thanks for reading!


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